


Storm Chaser

by kuriadalmatia



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Light Dom/sub, M/M, Slash, Storm Chasing, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-18
Updated: 2011-02-18
Packaged: 2017-12-04 05:42:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/707183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuriadalmatia/pseuds/kuriadalmatia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is love. Aaron is certain of that. Why else would he be on a trip that could best be summarized as a “tornado stake out”?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> COMMENTS: Unbetaed. Storm chasing is one of the things on my Bucket List, along with skydiving and white water rafting. I have the upmost respect for those who pile into minivans loaded down with equipment to hunt down tornadoes. Me? Tornados scare the unholy shit out of me. Yes, I’ve probably taken some liberties with the whole storm chasing aspect of it but, hey, it’s all in fun right? Finally, the "F5" drink with Clamato is something I made up. This was originally supposed to be “R is for Rage” entry in my Alphabet Meme based on the the concept of 'raging storm'. However, it went from a drabble to a 6,600 word monster.
> 
> December 2010-February 2011
> 
> Feedback always welcome.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: The Mark Gordon Company, ABC Studios and CBS Paramount Network Television own Criminal Minds. Salut! I just took them out to play and I promise put them back when I'm done. I'm not making any profit just trying to get these images out of my head.

* * *

_**“There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.”  
— Friedrich Nietzsche** _

* * *

 

It’s not the first time that Aaron has asked himself, “Why the hell am I doing this?” It won’t be the last time he answers with, “Because Spencer asked.”

After all, they’re sitting in a minivan packed with scientific equipment and they’re out in the middle of nowhere…Correction. They’re somewhere near 34-46'28'' North by 096-40'42'' West, which apparently translates to the coordinates close to Ada, Oklahoma.

The UnSub they’re chasing? A goddamn _storm_.

Aaron has no idea why the hell he even agreed to do this except that, well, it’s one of the few things that Spencer has ever outright asked him to do. So for the first week of their annual leave—AL that Aaron busted his ass to coordinate so that the entire team could be off at the same time (and, no, he doesn’t think about the last time that happened and how it ended up in a chase as well)—this is what he and Spencer are doing.

Stuck in a minivan, tracking down violent storms in hopes of seeing a tornado.

It _is_ goddamn crazy.

They’re not the only ones on the tour. Apparently, storm chasing is pretty popular, which initially surprises the hell out of Aaron until he meets the people who have signed up. He’s not being cruel when he concludes that this is probably their one chance at pure excitement, to do something ‘wild and crazy’. The tourists have relatively low-risk jobs, ones that don’t require Kevlar, high speed chases, or trying to figure out how a delusional psychotic interprets the Bible. Aaron’s also pretty damn certain they’ve never been a victim of a crime, which he’s thankful for in one way, but their carelessness and obliviousness annoys the hell out of him.

For Aaron and Spencer, it’s chasing down a thing, not a person. There is destruction— _it’s a fucking tornado for God’s sake_ —and people can get hurt. But it’s a force driven by nature in a different way than they’re used to.

Aaron understands why Spencer finds it fascinating, and there is a part of him that is intrigued as well. However, he’d be much happier observing the violent weather from someplace a bit safer. His apartment in Virginia quickly comes to mind.

Admittedly, he’s surprised that Spencer fits in so easily with the group, but then again, Spencer is his usual font of information about weather patterns, equipment and historical data. Their guides are excited that they have someone who is knowledgeable, who can talk on the same scientific level as them but is not condescending and does not overshadow their expertise. The other tourists seem impressed but not intimidated by Spencer, probably because Spencer has done a remarkable job at keeping his enthusiasm somewhat restrained. He doesn’t interrupt when one of the guides starts talking about Tornado Alley, although Aaron knows he’s dying to add his own insights just by the way Spencer’s pinky taps against his coffee cup.

However, Aaron sticks out like a sore thumb.

And for the past three days, he’s heard all about it from his fellow tourists. Aaron is polite but doesn’t really participate in the enthusiastic discussions except to clarify to Spencer that the “flying cow movie” is _Twister_. When Carl and Carline hear that Spencer has never seen the movie, they whip out their iPad, cue up the movie, and hand it over to Spencer, who watches it with the same intensity he does when viewing a video sent to them by an UnSub.

It’s something to do as they drive around Oklahoma, searching for storms.

It leads to a passionate discussion with the two storm chasers in the van with them—Melinda and TJ—Carl, Carline and Spencer. Spencer’s won over Melinda and TJ because he gets the inaccuracies; Carl and Carline still claim it’s a fun movie even if the cows probably wouldn't have flown the way they did. As they pull in to the hotel for the evening, Carl dares to bring up the nickname Aaron has been christened with by the group—Mister Crotchner—and adds, “Can’t you just lighten up?”

To which Spencer replies honestly, “This _is_ him ‘lightened’ up. He’s not wearing a suit.” It earns laughter.

Aaron puts up with it because Spencer endured three Orioles games, two Nationals games, and a Ravens game. And when Spencer apologizes for the nickname as if he was the one who came up with it, Aaron offers a soft smile and says, “I’ve been called worse.”

And they both know he has.

The hotel rooms are marginally better than what they stay in when on cases, except Aaron and Spencer get to share and no one blinks an eye or offers one of them a hemorrhoid donut in the morning. In their group, there are two other men who have doubled up but aren’t a couple. It’s not like Aaron and Spencer broadcast their status, not to a group of people like this.

The only real tolerable thing is that Aaron and Spencer have sex every night. It’s not rushed. It’s not frantic. It’s slow and sensual, which makes up for the hours upon hours stuck cramped in a minivan. They know how to be quiet, when to put the mattress on the floor and just what to use as makeshift gags because sometimes shouting when coming is the whole point. There is a thrill of naughtiness to it, of course, and Aaron doesn’t mind. He’s used to it. He’s not upset by it.

Judging from the way Spencer grins, he knows his lover doesn’t mind it as well.

Both agree that they do not want the group to know what they do for a living. They don’t want to ‘talk shop’ with a bunch of amateurs because it’s annoying as hell when someone says, _I read this David Rossi novel…_ (or Thompson novel or Ryan novel) and they believe they’re experts because they watch CSI every week and took Abnormal Psychology in college.

“It’s like going undercover,” Spencer told him the night before they left. “We can tell them…” He paused and smiled. “We can tell them that we’re analysts with the government who investigate crime statistics.”

Their cover holds and Aaron doesn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Day Four begins with TJ banging on their hotel door at four a.m. and shouting something about an awesome storm cell two hours from here so, “Let’s roll!”

Habit has Aaron rolling out of bed and patting the nightstand for his gun. He wants to be embarrassed but realizes that Spencer does the exact same thing. They share a laugh, a quick kiss, and murmured promises of sex when they stop for the evening.

It takes Aaron and Spencer a mere fifteen minutes to get ready, pack, check out, and have their two bags at the minivans. Their efficiency stuns the storm chasing crew; apparently, Aaron and Spencer are the first tourists who understand the concept of getting on the road as quickly as possible.

Twenty minutes later, the other eight participants finally march out, dragging their luggage and complaining that about the time. The group leaders, Dale and Tre, split the tourists up into different vans. Spencer and Aaron end up in the lead vehicle with Dale and Tre, which apparently is a reward for the first to be ready in the morning.

Dale’s behind the wheel and tells Aaron to take shotgun. Tre and Spencer are in the back with the hardcore equipment, which no doubt delights Spencer.

“You’re Crotchner, right?” Dale asks he juts his chin towards Aaron.

Spencer starts to say something but Aaron makes a little gesture. He sips his coffee—he and Spencer are the only ones of the tourists who have thermoses and they make sure they’re filled every morning—and hitches an eyebrow at Dale. “If you’re interested in good coffee,” he says mildly because those extra twenty minutes allowed them to score the decent brew from the coffee shop instead of the hotel, “it’s Hotchner.”

Dale snorts a little and shakes his head. “Righty then. You know how to read a map?”

Aaron nods and picks up the battered paper map between them. There’s nothing wrong with the GPS, but Aaron knows that Garmin, Tom-Tom and Magellan aren’t the best when it comes to rural roads and farmland.

Tre and Spencer shoulder a majority of the conversation, talking about the two storm cells that are rapidly escalating in strength, while Dale strategizes with the other members of his team via their push-to-talk phones. Aaron watches the storm clouds and checks the map, but there’s really not much else to do except play passenger.

It’s annoying and it’s boring, but the excitement in Spencer’s tone is unmistakable. Aaron knows that he’ll probably be doing a lot more things like this because it makes Spencer happy. It’s new. It’s different. It’s off-beat. He’ll probably only have to do this particular thing once in his lifetime, maybe twice if Jack expresses an interest when he’s old enough to go on something like this.

It is love. Aaron is certain of that. Why else would he be on a trip that could best be summarized as a “tornado stake out”?

When the National Weather Service issues a Severe Thunderstorm Warning three counties away, Dale and Tre exchange high-fives and Spencer plucks the map from Aaron’s hands and fishes through his messenger bag for a pen. He blurts out a bunch of meteorological terms which Aaron has no hopes of following, but Dale and Tre exchange glances as grins blossom across their faces. Spencer then begins suggesting routes to intercept the storm.

“Ever been in a high-speed chase?” Dale asks, excitement pouring off of him.

“Tracking down a storm? No,” Aaron replies dryly. He’s not really trying to be difficult, and it’s taking a lot of willpower _not_ to demand Dale pull the vehicle over so that he can drive.

“Hold on!” Dale exclaims and Tre lets out a hearty laugh in the back as the vehicle surges forward.

Driving into a nasty storm is downright insane and Aaron forces himself not to have a white-knuckle grip on the “Oh Jesus” bar in the van. Dale begins heckling him a little, which only adds to Aaron’s annoyance. While he sincerely hopes that Dale never ends up in a situation required the BAU’s expertise, there’s that little part of him that wants Dale to come face to face with what Aaron hunts on a daily basis.

Dale wouldn’t be laughing. The man would be shitting his pants. It’s _that_ image that Aaron holds on to—it’s cruel and it’s inappropriate, but Aaron doesn’t particularly care—and it helps him relax just a bit. Not much, because— _goddamn, is that quarter-inch hail pounding on the windshield?_ —but enough for him to suggest taking the next left.

“That takes us away from the storm,” Tre calls from the back, complete with the unspoken, _What a wuss!_ in his tone.

Aaron bites back the retort, _Let’s see you profile a disorganized psychopath._ He’s not going to get into a pissing match with these guys.

“Actually, that road connects to 377 in four miles,” Spencer offers. “If you look here…and here…” The map rustles a bit. “377 then meets up with 270 and 59, giving us more options to parallel the storm cell.”

Aaron wants to glance back and offer a smile, the _thanks for having my back_ type. However, Spencer gives him a light clasp on the shoulder, the _thanks for not taking their lunch money_ type, and hands him the map.

The rain comes down in buckets, Tre and Spencer chat about the storm intensity, and Dale strategizes with the other drivers. They take the next left (only because of Spencer’s explanation Aaron is sure) and the wind picks up considerably. They hydroplane twice, much to Aaron’s displeasure (they wouldn’t have hydroplaned if he’d been driving), and there’s a grim set to Dale’s jaw as he finally concedes that the downpour is really too much to be safely driving in.

It’s not Aaron who insists, but two of the other drivers.

They pull over to the side, Aaron pops his knuckles out of habit, and Tre dares to tease him a bit about being nervous. It takes everything not to answer with a glare that would undoubtedly make Tre wet his pants.

Suddenly, Spencer exclaims, “Hook echo!” in a tone Aaron has only heard in police stations when his lover makes a wonderful, incredible deduction about an UnSub.

Tre confirms, Aaron remembers the significance of the term, and Dale slaps the steering wheel as he relays the information. There are cheers over the phone and then the National Weather Service issues a Tornado Warning. Dale and Tre exchange another set of high-fives, including Spencer on the round.

Aaron tries to be enthusiastic but finds he can’t. The idea of charging at tornado isn’t something he relishes. He’d rather face down a psychopath because with a psychopath, at least he has a shot, literally.

There’s no shooting a tornado.

Dale puts the car into gear and hits the gas.

Aaron tells himself, _I love Spence Reid,_ because that’s the only thing keeping him from booting Dale from the driver’s seat. The only thing.

Despite the hook echo, the weather service warning, and hail that could pass as golf balls, there is no tornado. The group is crushed and are vocal about it as they stand around the vans on the side of the road. TJ slams his fist on the hood of the van and mutters, “So damn close.”

Aaron can sympathize with them. He really can. He gives TJ a light clasp on the shoulder, says, “We still have four days left. Spencer said that there’s another cold front that’s forecasted to be passing through about a hundred miles northeast of here, and that the low pressure system has stalled.”

TJ stares at him for a moment, obviously stunned that Aaron can throw around all that jargon, but then he huffs out a laugh and nods. “You’re right. It’s just…you people pay good money to see something and, well, I hate not delivering.”

It’s earnest and it’s heartfelt. The guy really wants to share his passion with other folks, to let normal people experience the thrill of the chase. Aaron admires the guy’s sincerity but thanks the deities that he doesn’t have to put up with tourists in order to fund the BAU.

* * *

 


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

Six hours later, the group is having a very late lunch a Cracker Barrel. Spencer’s clearly disappointed as are the rest of the crew while Aaron is simply tired. Despite his words of encouragement to TJ, he’s not looking forward to another five hours in a minivan, pouring over maps and guessing where a storm will strike.

“You hate this,” Spencer murmurs as he slides into the seat across from him. Their table is purposefully three booths from the rest, because Aaron doesn’t think he can handle any more whining about the tornado getting away.

“Hate is a strong word,” Aaron replies and takes a sip of his sweet tea. It’s the only thing tolerable on the menu, because as far as Cracker Barrels go, this has to be the worse one he’s eaten at. Then, he realizes that he’s dined at way too many Cracker Barrels, Frisches, Shoney’s and Denny’s in his lifetime.

“Strongly dislike,” Spencer corrects with a sour laugh and fiddles with the peg board puzzle game.

“It’s something I can say I did,” he counters.

That earns a snort as Spencer begins moving the pegs. The object of the game is to jump the tees until only one remains on the triangle board. It’s become a bit of a competition with the other tourists. It took Carl five hours to figure it out, four hours and forty-five minutes after everyone else gave up. Aaron wonders how long it will take Spencer to solve it.

“You went to an Orioles game for me,” Aaron adds, because while it’s easy to make Spencer feel guilty about this whole vacation, he doesn’t want to. He won’t. He’s not having a great time and, yes, there are plenty of other things he’d rather be doing, but it’s time with Spencer and…well…it’s time with Spencer. He’s not sure he can explain.

“But that was for one game. Three hours, not—”

“It was ninety-five degrees with a heat index of one-oh-four.”

Spencer blinks and peers closer at him. “You remembered the weather?”

“You didn’t let me forget,” Aaron teases and nudges him with his foot when Spencer begins to blush a little. He clears his throat. He wants to reach across and take Spencer’s hand, but he doesn’t. “It’s fine.” He glances down and sees that the board is empty except for the lone peg.

“It’s not fine,” Spencer replies after a few moments.

 _To hell with the group_ , Aaron thinks as he covers Spencer’s hand with his own. He squeezes. “I’m with you.”

A small smile tugs at Spencer’s lips. His eyes are full of warmth and promises. “I’ll make it up to you tonight.”

“I’m sure you will.”

* * *

 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

That evening, the group ends up in Ponca City, Oklahoma, which on the map is only about three hours north of where they started out this morning. Storm chasing involves a lot of driving in circles, which Aaron is all too familiar with.

Dinner with the tourists is tense. There is grumbling about ‘waste of money’ and how another storm chasing group is far more professional, has better equipment, and guarantees its tourists will witness an actual tornado. Aaron knows they’re only bitching because the storm chasers are not there; their hosts are recalibrating their equipment out in the parking lot. Of the tourists, Donna and Bert are the most vocal about the whole “they’re not professional” shit, which causes Aaron to shake his head and pinch the bridge of his nose.

It’s like dealing with LEOs who want the notoriety of working a ‘big case’ but don’t understand just how hellish a big case can be.

“You got something to say, Crotchner?” Bert challenges. The room goes silent. All attention turns to him and Spencer. Bert’s a furniture salesman from Bowling Green, Kentucky and his wife Donna works at nearby Western Kentucky University in admissions. They’re avid Discovery and History Channel fans and this is their annual ‘let’s do something like they do on those shows’ outing. Aaron heard all about crab fishing last night.

Bert is a somewhat successful salesman, but it’s probably because he bullies customers into the more expensive brands. He likes being in charge but has none of the grace of a natural leader.

Aaron’s defense of their guides is sharp and concise, leaving no real room for arguing. Yes, he’s insulting the tourists, but seriously, they’re expecting it to be “just like TV” when “just like TV” involves a shit ton of editing. Bert’s mouth closes with a snap, Donna refuses to meet Aaron’s gaze, and everyone else shuts up. Even Spencer looks a little taken aback, so Aaron excuses himself, goes back to their hotel room, and changes into his workout gear, texting Spencer about where he’ll be.

Aaron wasn’t able to get in his morning exercise, which Spencer will undoubtedly say caused his surliness. The hotel’s workout room consists of a treadmill (which is broken), an elliptical, and a stationary bike plus a set of free weights missing the five and twenty pound barbells. It’s not the best but it will do; Aaron has no desire to go running outside.

An hour and a half later, Aaron returns to their hotel room, drenched in sweat and definitely less antsy. He knows Spencer will probably give him some grief about being so harsh with Bert and Donna, and there’s part of him that acknowledges that he probably shouldn’t have been so sharp with them, but he quickly dismisses that notion.

They were being unreasonable. Aaron simply set the record straight.

He knocks on their hotel room door once and calls out, “Spencer, it’s Aaron,” more out of habit than anything else. Aaron keys open the door, walks in, and, as he closes it, he turns to find a shirtless Spencer standing in the meager hallway. A shirtless Spencer with his belt unbuckled, button to his khaki’s undone, zipper down, and a hard-on tenting his boxers.

Aaron is about to make a snarky comment when Spencer closes the distance, pushes him against the wall, and then delivers a searing kiss that has Aaron moaning. Spencer breaks the kiss and gnaws on Aaron’s earlobe as his hands settle on the waistband of Aarons’ loose running shorts. Spencer then drops to his knees, pulling Aaron’s shorts and sweat soaked briefs down with him. Cool air hits Aaron’s rapidly hardening cock. While he wants to say, “I should take a shower,” he knows Spencer has a kink for him sweaty after a workout. Spencer licks his dick once before taking the length into his mouth, using one hand to nudge Aaron’s legs apart. Aaron complies and is rewarded by Spencer caressing his balls as he sucks Aaron’s cock.

Aaron fists his shirt so he won’t thread his hands in Spencer’s hair. It’s part of the game, allowing Spencer to direct and control the encounter. He doesn’t have to glance down to know that Spencer is working his own cock with his other hand, but does anyway because it’s an incredible turn on. He bites his lips to keep from saying, “Suck me” or “Take it deeper” or “Fuck yes”. If he does, Spencer will stop. It’s all about control. While Aaron has essentially been powerless the whole trip—he knows if he drives the van just _once_ he’d be a lot happier about the whole situation—Spencer rewards him for his efforts.

Judging by the way Spencer’s forefinger is pressing against Aaron’s asshole, Spencer will probably fuck him senseless tonight.

God, he hopes so.

Aaron’s getting close—he never lasts long when Spencer uses his mouth—and he fights urge to thrust into Spencer’s mouth. He breathes through his mouth, spreading his legs further apart so that Spencer can work his hole. His legs begin to tremble and he presses his skull against wall so he doesn’t do something stupid, like throw his head back in ecstasy and give himself a concussion.

He’s done it before.

His toes curl up in his shoes and his back begins to arch when there’s a knock on the door.

Spencer stills.

It takes every ounce of willpower for Aaron not to scream, not to push forward into Spencer’s mouth…

“Crotch…uh…Hey, uh, Hotchner?” It’s Dale.

Aaron struggles to remember if he put the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the door but one glance to the handle answers that question. He didn’t. He wasn’t expecting Spencer to ravish him the moment he walked in.

Spencer pulls away. He kisses the tip of Aaron’s cock as he rocks back, grabs Aaron’s shorts and briefs, and pulls them up as he stands. Aaron stares, mouth hanging open and a sound trapped in his throat.

 _You can’t be serious,_ Aaron wants to shout.

“You better answer that,” Spencer whispers wickedly as he steps back, wipes the corners of his mouth with his thumb, and saunters into the bathroom, closing the door.

“Hotchner? Hey. It’s Dale. Yeah. Hey. You there?”

Willpower is a hell of a thing. So is knowing that if he doesn’t answer the door and doesn’t treat Dale nicely, the only action he’ll have tonight will be his hand. Which would be a huge disappointment compared to whatever Spencer has planned.

So Aaron clears his throat and adjusts himself as best he can, before deciding that the towel from his workout will have to hide the budge in his shorts. He grits his teeth and tries not to look like a homicidal maniac as he rolls his shoulders and places his hand on the handle. He lets out a breath and then opens the door partially.

Dale is standing there, shifting his weight and glancing up and down the hallway. Clearly, he doesn’t want to be seen. When he turns and sees Aaron, he takes a step forward as if to enter the room and then is surprised when Aaron doesn’t step aside.

“What may I help you with?” Aaron asks, a bit too formal and off-putting, but as polite as he can manage given the circumstances.

“Hey. Uh. Look.” Dale scratches the back of his head. “About tonight. I heard about what you said.” He looks everywhere but directly at Aaron. Clearly, he’s embarrassed. “I just wanted to say thanks. I mean. It’s obvious that you hate the whole chasing thing. I mean. I get it. You’re used to being in an office and all that…But…” He finally brings his gaze to meet Aaron’s. There’s earnestness and thankfulness to his gaze that surprises Aaron. “Thanks for what you said. Not may people get that part of it. You know. The whole ‘Edited for Television’ thing.”

“You’re welcome.” Aaron offers a small nod. “Not everyone can do what you do,” he says and then tacks on, “especially bringing civilians along for the ride.” Because he means it. He really does. Hell, dragging along overeager LEOs on cases is bad enough. When the local lead on the case decides that personal fame is worth more than a victim—Jill Morris from the Philadelphia office quickly comes to mind—it’s a recipe for disaster. And Aaron completely losing his temper. Which he’s done. He wants to be ashamed about it, but finds that he can’t be.

“Civilians,” Dale snorts, clearly amused by Aaron’s choice of words. He shrugs a little. “It pays the bills.”

“Something has to.”

Dale agrees with a short shake of his head and then steps back. “Better let you get your shower.” He pauses and holds out his hand. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Aaron replies and shakes the man’s hand. Dale’s grip is firm and confident, and the smile he gives Aaron is different that the one this morning. They’ve made a connection and Aaron knows he’s graduated to ‘cool’ in Dale’s book. It shouldn’t please him like it does, because striving for the approval of the team leader is something he left behind the moment he was anointed acting unit chief. Yet it does and he bids Dale good night.

Aaron turns and finds Spencer standing there, a smile playing across the younger man’s lips.

Spencer steps forward, but the urgency from before has morphed into that slow burn of passion. “I love you,” he says once the door is closed. His voice is soft, reverent. It’s sexy as hell.

Aaron quickly opens the door, hangs the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the handle, and shuts it. He bolts the door and turns. He runs the back of his hand along Spencer’s jaw, his thumb brushing those lips that just minutes ago, had him on the edge of ecstasy. He wants to say, _I love you, too_ , because he really, honestly does. As clichéd as it sounds, he loves Spencer with every fiber of his being. Yet, he knows by the look in Spencer’s eyes that it’s understood.

It’s one of the many things he covets about this relationship: the ability to communicate so much without having to say a word.

“I should shower,” he ventures, because one thing he’s learned over the time they’ve been together is that Spencer’s sweat kink only engages when Aaron’s fresh from a workout.

“That you should,” Spencer says before stepping forward and delivering an intense kiss. “That you should.”

* * *

 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

Aaron wonders what the hell they were thinking this morning besides, _If we let him drive, he may actually decent to be around_. Dale casually flipped him the keys and winked as he said, “Our insurance company would have a shit fit if they knew a civilian was driving, but you earned it.”

The last comment made Aaron’s eye twitch but he didn’t hesitate walking over to the driver’s side and settling in to the seat. He’s driving with Spencer riding shotgun while Dale and Tre are in the back, issuing commands over their push-to-talk radios as the NWS drones on about Severe Thunderstorm Warnings and Tornado Watches. He can feel their excitement—he always can in situations like this—and it enables him to focus more, to guide the vehicle with not-so-great steering and questionable brakes with more accuracy.

There’s more excited chatter but Aaron tunes it out as the hail pounds the windshield and the rain comes down in sheets. Aaron feels the vehicle begin to slide due to the torrent of rain, so he makes the course correction as he glances in the rear-view mirror to check on their backup.

Backup.

If Aaron was the type to let out a laugh during a high-speed chase, he would. Because suddenly the other tourists have become his “backup” and God…God…he can’t wait to give himself willingly over to Spencer tonight because he knows his lover has orchestrated this.

Christ, it’s the most inappropriate time to sport a woody, but he’s got one.

Worse, it’s not the type that easily goes away.

It’s the kind that other LEOs politely ignore because they know it’s something that just happens. Aaron’s not too sure how their guides or tourists are going to react, which is another reason to totally hate what they’re currently doing. He wonders if they’ll even notice.

But still, he’s driving and he’s not going to complain at all.

This all goes through Aaron’s mind in a split second, because Spencer tells him to take the next exit and turn right at the end of the ramp.

Then he hears the NWS issue a Tornado Warning.

Spencer tells him to turn left.

He hears the shout “Touchdown!” and he’s half-expecting to be doused with beer, because that’s what usually happens when he hears those words, especially if they’re watching a game with JJ and/or Will.

Then, Spencer tells him that in one point three miles, he needs to take a right.

It really all becomes a blur after that.

Okay.

Maybe not.

Aaron remembers it all quite clearly.

Well, most of it.

“Left. Right. Left. Left.”

“There it is!”

“There it is!”

“There it is!”

“Go! Go! Go!”

Charging out of the van, his hand hitting his hip where his holster should be, swallowing the panic because he’s unarmed, but then remembering, _Our weapons are in our bags_. Followed by, _You can’t shoot a goddamn tornado_.

Aaron watches as Mother Nature carves her way through Oklahoma prairie.

Spencer’s hand is on his shoulder. Firm. Eager. Thankful.

“You don’t want pictures?” Tre asks as he fumbles with his camcorder.

“He doesn’t need it,” Aaron answers as the wind whips around them. “He has an eidetic memory.” The other tourists around them are too busy with their own cameras to register what he says.

Dale, however, stares briefly at them before returning his attention to the twister on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Spencer whispers.

It’s actually more like a shout because the wind howls around them.

“Besides feeling like a greyhound that just chased a smelly rag around a ring for the amusement of spectators…” Aaron mutters as he wonders how long they are going to just stare at a force of nature that could easily change course and heads towards them. Tre indicated the tornado’s path is a quarter-mile wide. UnSubs are always unpredictable—that was given when it came to human nature—but at least Aaron and Spencer have a shot at guessing their next move.

Tornados? Not so much.

Spencer laughs and squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll get some photos.” Aaron glances over and Spencer adds, “To show to Jack. So he can tell all his friends that his dad chases tornados, too.”

“Christ, Spencer.”

Yet all Spencer does is chuckle as he pulls out his digital camera. “Garcia wants proof too. Maybe you can mimic shooting it.”

“I’m not aiming a finger-gun at a tornado, Spencer.”

That earns the attention of the group.

“It’s for his son,” Spencer clarifies loudly with an overly cheerful grin.

The group nods. Hell, even Bert and Donna seem appreciative. Then, the group decides that it would be awesome if Aaron does mimic shooting a force of nature.

The only reason Aaron complies is to shut them the fuck up.

Not because his son could now brag that not only did his father take down bad guys, his father could take down tornados as well.

Although the looks that the other dads will give him on Parent’s Day will be priceless and sometimes…yeah…sometimes it felt really good to be the coolest dad in room.

It inspires him to take the camera from Spencer and say, “Your turn.”

Spencer stares at him.

Aaron grins a little. He wants to say, _So Jack can brag about you, too_ , but doesn’t. It takes a few seconds and then Spencer turns towards the twister, settles in his stance, and points his finger-gun. Aaron hears Spencer say, “Front sight. Trigger press. Follow through. Right?”

He snaps two photos as he lets out a laugh. “Right.”

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

It’s not until later in some no-name bar, that Dale approaches and asks, “Where the hell did you learn to drive like that?”

Aaron glances over as Dale settles in the chair next to Spencer. He and Spencer are both watching the other tourists get drunk; someone has to be responsible, because the looks some of the other patrons are giving the tourists are downright nasty. Tornados touching down mean property damage and potential loss of life; they’re not something to be celebrated with gusto like the tourists are. It’s the reason why he and Spencer stick to soda.

He’s unsure how to answer Dale’s question without giving away just what he does for a living. However, Spencer leans forward and mock whispers, “He’s a federal agent.”

Dale looks at him, mouth open a little. “No shit.”

“No shit,” Spencer repeats and the pulls out his credentials from his pocket. He flashes them quickly at Dale, long enough for their guide to see the shield and the FBI letters but not much else. He slides them back in his pocket and takes another sip of his soda.

“No shit,” Dale echoes, but it’s a bit more slurry than last time. He’s is on his fourth Bud Light but clearly he’s not used to the alcohol. Hell, none of the chasers look like they’re used to drinking. Tre is doing tequila shots with Melinda and TJ. Carline is begging the bartender to make an F5, which is apparently some kind of frozen concoction with Clamato. Bert and Donna are already on their third Long Island Iced Teas and singing along with the music they’ve selected from the jukebox.

“Can you, ah, keep this between us?” Spencer asks and gestures to the three of them.

Dale nods, still a little dumbfounded, but then a grin spreads across his face. He waggles a finger at Aaron. “Civilians.”

Aaron smiles briefly. “Civilians.”

Their guide lets out a wild laugh and then tilts over backwards, slamming to the ground before Aaron and Spencer can catch him. Aaron looks over to Spencer as they help Dale to his feet. Spencer asks, “Time to go?”

“Yeah,” Aaron replies and he’s stuck with the inglorious task of making sure their bunch of drunks have paid their tabs as he rounds them up. Bert, of course, is the most belligerent but Spencer is able to diffuse the situation easily. Aaron drops an extra twenty on the bar as he leaves, a gesture of goodwill on his part but also an unspoken request for the bartender not to call the local cops and have the group arrested for a ‘drunk and disorderly’.

The group stumbles back to the hotel three blocks away, and Aaron knows the entire lot of them will have killer hangovers tomorrow. He doesn’t feel bad; they’re adults and they should know better. They get everyone safely back into their hotel rooms. When he and Spencer get to their own, Spencer suggests a late night swim.

“We’re not making out in a public pool in…wherever the hell we are Oklahoma,” Aaron replies, because he knows that’s what Spencer wants.

“Elk City,” his lover corrects. “Are you sure?”

“Spencer…”

The younger man grins a little before hooking his fingers in Aaron’s belt loops and tugging him forward. “It was such a turn-on watching you drive the way you did,” he says against Aaron’s lips. “I didn’t realize how sexy you looked when you’re that intense.”

Aaron’s instantly hard. He hitches an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Really.”

* * *

 


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

The remaining two days go by quickly. Despite impressing the hell out of the guides with his driving, Aaron’s demoted to passenger status. He understands why of course; Dale is absolutely correct in saying the insurance company would have a fit if they knew someone else drove the minivan under those circumstances. It doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to drive.

The other tourists can’t stop talking about the tornado and over the course of the final two days, the twister graduates in scale from barely an F3 to a raging mile-wide F5 complete with flying pickup trucks and cows. Aaron wonders how long it will take until someone includes a house with a girl and her dog inside plus a woman on a bicycle. Again, he knows his being unnecessarily cruel because this is probably the biggest thrill any of those tourists have had in their lives.

He decides that that part is okay. He doesn’t want them to have the type of “excitement” that he and Spencer deal with at work. He doesn’t want that for anyone, but hopes a little more that this particular group is spared. Some of them are idiots. Most of them are oblivious of how vulnerable they make themselves. Still, this group has become ‘his’ in that weird way that happens when spending a week working a case (or chasing a tornado) in such close quarters.

They still call him Crotchner and, on the last when Dale announces out that Aaron’s an FBI agent, the group laughs and all agree that it’s not possible. Bert goes so far as to say, “Next thing you’ll be telling is that is that you hunt down serial killers!” Which earns quite a few hoots and even more heckling.

It’s the first time in a long time that people doubt that he’s with the Bureau. It’s insulting because he’s not used to it and then he thinks of all the times the LEOs scoffed at Spencer’s gun and badge.

Aaron knows if he were wearing his suit and not jeans and a sweatshirt, they wouldn’t question it. He also knows the only way to dissuade them of the notion is to flash his badge, but Aaron opts not to. Correcting the misconception is not worth questions about what he does and it would be stealing the attention away from their guides, which Aaron doesn’t want to do.

After all, the six professional storm chasers put up with a group of tourists for seven days. They deserve the firm handshakes and hugs and adulation from the group. They earn it.

So Aaron shrugs and says nothing, because it really isn’t all that important.

What’s important is that Spencer is happy. What’s important is that Spencer can cross off another thing on his bucket list.

What’s important is that Aaron may never have to do it again.

But he will, of course.

Because he loves Spencer Reid.

And he will never regret spending time with Spencer Reid.

* * *

 


End file.
